At last, we talked of old Homeric bards:—those who, ages back, harped, and begged, and groped their blinded way through all this charitable Mardi; receiving coppers then, and immortal glory now.
ABRAZZA—How came it, that they all were blind?
BABBALANJA—It was endemical, your Highness. Few grand poets have good eyes; for they needs blind must be, who ever gaze upon the sun. Vavona himself was blind: when, in the silence of his secret bower, he said—“I will build another world. Therein, let there be kings and slaves, philosophers and wits; whose checkered actions—strange, grotesque, and merry-sad, will entertain my idle moods.” So, my lord, Vavona played at kings and crowns, and men and manners; and loved that lonely game to play.
ABRAZZA—Vavona seemed a solitary Mardian; who seldom went abroad; had few friends; and shunning others, was shunned by them.
BABBALANJA—But shunned not himself, my lord; like gods, great poets dwell alone; while round them, roll the worlds they build.
MEDIA—You seem to know all authors:—you must have heard of Lombardo, Babbalanja; he who flourished many ages since.
BABBALANJA—I have; and his grand Kortanza know by heart.
MEDIA (to Abrazza.)—A very curious work, that, my lord.
ABRAZZA—Yes, my dearest king. But, Babbalanja, if Lombardo had aught to tell to Mardi—why choose a vehicle so crazy?
BABBALANJA—It was his nature, I suppose.